


putting on the ritz

by lazulisong



Series: hartwin trash [1]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Reunions, School Reunion, Stealth Crossover, jesus christ on a Popsicle stick I want to die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 20:24:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3909439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazulisong/pseuds/lazulisong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They think you paid me to be here," hisses Eggsy.</p><p>Harry stares at him. "I made your favorite dinner and I have to let your wretched beast sleep on the bed for a month," he says flatly.</p><p>"No, they think you <i>paid me to be here</i>," says Eggsy.</p><p>"My dear boy," says Harry, "do you think all these third wives married my classmates out of the purity of their affections?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> canon typical violence and stupidity ahead, kids.
> 
> gosh I love this dumb movie.

Harry likes to distract Eggsy with small, sucking kisses placed on his neck when he wants something: he slips off Eggsy's jacket, which Eggsy always fucking falls for, and then slides his hands down Eggsy's back and hooks his thumbs into the waistband of Eggsy's trackies. By the time Eggsy has two brain cells firing together Harry is pulling off Eggsy's undershirt and saying, in a tone of fond disapproval that gets Eggsy furious and aroused all at once, "Darling, I didn't give you those silk pants to save for best."

Eggsy usually regains enough sense at this point to try to push Harry away -- but not too hard, because what if Harry let himself be pushed? "You have to dry clean them," he says. "What use is pants you got to dry clean?"

"Or handwash," says Harry, sliding one long clever hand up and stroking over Eggsy's nipple, which is unfair and also makes Eggsy feel drunk and sweet all over, like he's willing to do anything for Harry if he'll just keep on rubbing his thumb over his nipple, so it goes all electric and tight. "Lazy boy," he adds, a rich undertone of amusement in his voice. "Are you waiting for me to do it for you?"

Eggsy tries to imagine Harry Hart carefully washing out his silk pants, laying them out, smoothing them neat, and doubtless imagining Eggsy _in_ them as he does, and makes a helpless noise in his throat.

"Spoiled, spoiled darling," says Harry, with evident satisfaction, and bites a mark on Eggsy's neck.

When Eggsy regains higher brain function, he's in bed as Harry cleans him up with a soft linen cloth. The bed smells like spunk and sweat and Eggsy would crinkle his nose at it but he feels too good to care. 

"Back with me?" says Harry, kissing the hollow of Eggsy's throat. Eggsy's always surprised at how much Harry likes to _kiss_ , not even in a way leading to anything more intense. He's always putting his mouth all over Eggsy's collarbone and shoulder and just under Eggsy's ear, and he shivers every bloody time and Harry chuckles meanly. 

"You're terrible," Eggsy tells him.

"You love me," Harry says. He follows it up by pressing his lips against Eggsy's forehead, and Eggsy is reduced to pouting at him. Harry kisses him to make him stop, and it's a very pleasant ten minutes later before Eggsy says, "So what are you wanting this time?"

"Want?" says Harry, wide eyed and innocent. "What would I want but the pleasure of your company in my bed, darling?"

Eggsy just stares at him. He's still riding the endorphin high of Harry fucking him blind but he ain't an idiot. Harry only spends that much time making nice when he wants him to do something like promise to use posh English since a lord is coming through to tour the more or else public bits of Kingsman, or make pasta and cheese for Harry without telling Roxy about how low Harry's taste is so that Roxy can't tell Merlin and Merlin can't make a laughingstock of Harry over it. 

Harry sighs, less fondly, and leans over Eggsy to the bedside table. He pulls open the drawer and takes out a white envelope.

He hands it to Eggsy, who looks at the heavy paper of it and the calligraphy -- obviously done by hand -- and raises both eyebrows. Harry makes a gesture with his hand -- _go on, open it_ \-- and Eggsy pulls the heavy invitation card out and looks at it. "Are you having me on," he says flatly. 

"No," says Harry, with a disapproving look.

"This is a class reunion invite," says Eggsy.

"And I hope," says Harry, like this isn't the fucking weirdest thing he's ever said, up to and including 'by the by your dad nearly got recruited into a secret spy agency -- would you like to join it as well, dear boy?', "that you will be so kind as to join me there."

"You're off your nut," says Eggsy.

* * *

"You're off your nut," says Roxy. 

"Yes, I know, ta," says Eggsy, grimly straightening his tie. 

"I hope he's a beast in the sack," says Roxy, "because --"

"I fucking know!" says Eggsy loudly. "I can't bloody believe he talked me into it either."

There's a gunshot and Eggsy ducks down before grabbing one of the corpses they're surrounded by, and heaving it up against the window. He makes the hand of the corpse wave while Roxy reloads. 

"Focus, children," says Merlin from their glasses.

Roxy rolls her eyes and shoves up beside Eggsy and the corpse. Eggsy lets it drop -- several bullet holes later -- and Roxy fires.

"Well done, Lancelot," says Merlin. "Gawain, eyes in front, you have incoming at ten and four o'clock."

"Got it," says Eggsy, as he relieves another corpse of it's rocket launcher and fires. Roxy follows up with another rifle shot and there's no time to talk until they're running for the helicopter at the pickup point.

"He'd better make this up to you," says Roxy. "My last reunion was girls all flashing diamond rings at each other until I thought I'd go mad."

"Oh, he is," says Eggsy.

* * *

Harry had tried to negotiate, actually, but Eggsy had the power and both of them knew it. Still, Harry put in a worthy effort, starting with more kisses on the nape of Eggsy's neck and a softly murmured, "please, dearest?"

Eggsy found he was rather enjoying himself. He tilted his head back to allow Harry better access and said, "You still haven't said what it's worth to you."

"Huggles' face when I walk in with you on my arm," said Harry baldly. "He's gone through five wives and the last one is an infant with plastic tits. Every time I see him he's wanting to know why I haven't found the love of my life yet." He nuzzled at Eggsy's throat. 

"So I'm a trophy wife?" said Eggsy.

"Dearest, darling boy," said Harry, "you are the most precious thing I have ever had." He punctuated it with a kiss on Eggsy's shoulder.

Which was very flattering, but Eggsy was not going to let Harry get away with it. "A month of JB sleeping on the bed," he said, "Twenty blow jobs, and -- " he hesitated, trying to think of something suitably outrageous "-- and," he concluded triumphantly, "the next _five_ times I wears trainers and trackies you don't say a word."

Harry pulled away. "Eggsy, really," he said.

"Not even if they're the winged ones," said Eggsy.

"Two weeks of the dog on the bed," bargained Harry.

"It ain't me who wants the favor, luv," said Eggsy. "You can talk about how handsome and fit I am without me there."

Harry gritted his teeth. Eggsy smirked at him. He knew, and Harry knew, that if Harry got into the habit of letting JB sleep on the bed, JB would be on the bed every night until he died of spoiled old age. "Three weeks and I lay your clothes out that night," he said.

"Hmm," said Eggsy. "See, that sounds like another favor for _you,_ you old pervert."

Harry bit him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't figure out why the hell Harry chose to wear plaid pants in that one scene, unless that's his idea of being fun and unconventional and also rather nouveau riche. Also I apologize in advance as the subtleties of mens' formal wear is beyond me.


	2. dressing like a million dollar trooper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eggsy's life is truly the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I spent the weekend helping my mother look at places for my grandmother  
> 1a. fortunately I was able to take the train  
> 1b. I was so glad to be back in Portland I didn't even mind when a bum told me to smile  
> 1c. Vodka. Vodka forever.
> 
> 2\. Apparently I accidentally promised Pru I'd write a story where Harry put Eggsy in lady's underthings for the opera. Ohhhh sober me is going to regret this.
> 
> 3\. Also this is pretty much just dressing kink, because I'm kind of terrible.

Eggsy gets back to HQ late on the day of the party, with a bruise blooming on his shoulder and a pair of broken glasses. Merlin gives him arnica for the shoulder and a filthy glare for the glasses. "I couldn't help it," says Eggsy. 

"Agents always think I'm made of equipment," says Merlin crossly. "I ought to take it out of your cheque."

"It's not my fault they always go for me face, innit," says Eggsy. "Would you like to punch this face?" He tries for a charming expression, and Merlin's face grows even more sour.

"Yes," says Merlin. 

Eggsy tries pouting at him, but that only works on Harry, and only when he lets it, so Merlin just glowers at him.

"You're lucky, I have a new prototype you can _borrow_ ," says Merlin. "I'll get you a new pair on Monday. Do try not to step on these."

The glasses are actually tortoiseshell instead of black plastic, with a sleeker, more modern fit than the usual Kingsman glasses. Eggsy studies them. "Are they the same controls?" he says doubtfully.

"Yes," says Merlin. 

Eggsy slides them on and studies his face in the mirror. "Very posh," he decides. "You're a real mate, Merlin."

"I hope they explode on your face," says Merlin. 

Eggsy stares at him.

"They won't," says Merlin, regretfully, "but I hope they do. Go away."

Eggsy salutes, and scarpers.

When he gets to Harry's house, he's half an hour late -- practically early by Harry's standards. Even so, Harry is waiting by the door, wearing an extremely unimpressed look and tapping his foot. He must have tracked Eggsy from the shop to do that, which is pretty typical for him. Eggsy is fairly fond of the bugger, but Harry is a creep. JB dances around and barks joyously between snorting pants. "Don't even start, bruv," says Eggsy, kneeling down so JB can smear drool and snot all over his face. "Who's a good boy? Who's my good boy?"

Harry puts up with this for about five seconds, and then hauls Eggsy up by the collar. He claims a kiss, open mouthed and aggressive, before he settles Eggsy properly on his feet again. Eggsy makes an aggravated noise and goes for another kiss. Harry allows him for a moment, indulgent as always, and then pulls away. "Off with you," he orders. "Into the tub."

"I'm hungry," complains Eggsy.

"You shouldn't have let yourself be exploded," says Harry, unsympathetically. "Go."

Eggsy goes. The bath's already drawn, steaming hot, and he strips down and sinks into it with a sigh of relief. He's only there in a minute before Harry raps on the door and enters with a plate of cold cuts and cheese. "You're a mate," says Eggsy, sitting up again and wincing at the movement of his shoulder.

Harry clicks his tongue and sets the plate down on the sink. He doesn't scold Eggsy, though, just reaches for a washrag and the bottle of wash. It's not Harry's wash. Eggsy likes wearing Harry's body wash and cologne, dipping his nose down into his collar and smelling _Harry_ throughout the day. 

"Can't I use yours?" he says. Usually he just steals it and Harry shakes his head disapprovingly, but then spends the entire day sneaking smells of Eggsy's neck. This new wash, as Harry scrubs the back of his neck with efficiency and his bruised shoulder with gentleness, smells faintly of Earl Grey tea and sandalwood. It's very nice, but it's not Harry's posh saddle leather and clove scent. 

Harry gives him a look that suggests Eggsy's thickness causes him actual physical pain. "A gentleman never uses another gentleman's personal scent. If a gentleman smells like another gentleman's cologne, it is because it has transferred to him."

Eggsy stares at him blankly. 

"My darling, if you smell like my cologne, it will because you're dressed in my clothing and you've been in my arms," Harry explains. He presses a kiss to Eggsy's temple. "And as enchanting as that thought is, I should like to retain the illusion of propriety."

Eggsy pulls back and gives him a flat look. 

"Also Merlin may have said something about obviously marking my territory," admits Harry. "It was very hurtful."

Eggsy snorts. Harry finishes washing him and drains most of the water of the tub, then refills it with warm water and feeds him the cold cuts and cheese by hand. Eggsy's a spoilt creature, he knows, but it's not even idea of someone taking care of him that does it for him, as it is how much Harry enjoys it. How Harry's fingers linger near Eggsy's mouth after Eggsy takes the bite, how he helps him from the tub and bundles him officiously in one of his towelling robes, scrubs his hair dry with a soft towel and herds him into his dressing room, where there is a dinner suit laid out already.

Eggsy balks at this point, because Harry has 'helped' him dress before. It would be just like him to get Eggsy all wound up and ready and wanting, and then step back and act like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth during the entire party, the pervert.

Eggsy says, "I can dress myself. Why don't you go get yourself ready and all?"

"We've plenty of time," says Harry, affecting innocence. Then he ruins it by sliding Eggsy's robe off his shoulder and kissing the bruise on his shoulder. 

"Sure we does," says Eggsy, but he lets Harry press his mouth against his neck, tilting his head to allow him better access. 

He allows Harry to take his dressing robe off his shoulders, and flushes a little, standing there naked before Harry's appreciative eyes. He puts his chin up high and stares back at Harry. 

" _Dearest_ boy," says Harry, as if it just burst out of him, and kisses him again until Eggsy is clinging to him, the fine cotton and wool of Harry's trousers and shirt crushed up against Eggsy's bare skin, and Eggsy is lightheaded between desire and lack of oxygen.

"That's not fair," he says, when Harry finally lets him go, "that's not fair at all."

Harry says, "I'm not a particularly fair person, my dear." Which is true, so Eggsy tries to glare at him as Harry steps away and returns with -- Eggsy fucking knew it -- silk pants. He kneels down and holds them out, and Eggsy flushes red to his chest and reluctantly steps in them. Harry pulls them up and strokes a possessive hand over Eggsy's flank, ending with it cupped over Eggsy's arse so he can press a kiss to the cut of Eggsy's hip. "I like to win." He presses another kiss just under Eggsy's navel and adds, "I like to _keep_."

He stands up and pulls Eggsy to the dressing chair, settling Eggsy down and starting with a thin undershirt that he smooths with lavish care over Eggsy's shoulders and chest before he reaches for socks and pulls them up over Eggsy's feet. Eggsy allows it, revels in it, how Harry focuses on sliding the sock up and adjusts it, like there's nothing more important in all the world than making sure Eggsy looks his best.

He repeats the process for the other leg, then lifts Eggsy's feet, one after the other, checking to make sure the socks lay smoothly over Eggsy's foot and heel. Eggsy shivers as Harry presses a kiss to his knee. 

Harry helps him into his trousers next, sliding each leg on and then pulling Eggsy to his feet to button the flies -- his hands lingering at Eggsy's groin, possessive -- and hook the braces to the trousers' waistband before he slides a cotton-Kevlar shirt, cool and silky over Eggsy's shoulders, and slides the studs into the fabric, one by one, with careful, calm competence. He kisses Eggsy's neck again before he closes the last stud at the collar, and then helps Eggsy into the braces. He hooks the cufflinks in and closes them, and Eggsy wonders grimly what he's done in a past life that this is his punishment.

Then he picks up a black waistcoat and helps Eggsy into it.

Eggsy is as hard as a rock in his trousers and his silk pants. He follows Harry's directions in a daze."You're a right prick," he says, as Harry helps him into a dinner jacket so closely fitted that Eggsy can't move his arms until the jacket is all the way on his shoulders. 

Harry hums under his breath and takes a step back to survey Eggsy critically. Eggsy can see himself in the mirror; he looks proper posh-like, except for his lack of a tie and the tent he's sprung at his fly. "Save that for later," says Harry, stroking his hip, and Eggsy only keeps himself from ruining his pants by a supreme effort of will. He wonders what Harry would do if he did. He's busy trying to decide if Harry would force him to lick up his own mess or spank him, and it's a near thing when Harry slides a black silk tie around Eggsy's throat and murmurs, "If you make a mess of your suit I shall be _very cross_ , my dear."

Eggsy maybe whites out for a second, but he doesn't jizz in his pants and he survives Harry standing so close he can feel the heat of his body as he ties Eggsy's bow tie, so he's going to mark that one as a win. 

"I'll just -- go take JB out to the back," manages Eggsy, as Harry unzips a second garment bag and begins to undo his cufflinks, which Harry knows very well Eggsy can't deal with. Harry is the king of restrained stripteases, and if he tackles Harry to the ground and has his way with him, they'll be horribly late to the dinner and Harry will pretend it's Eggsy's fault.  
"All right, darling," says Harry blandly, and slips the first button open. Eggsy realizes that he's not wearing an undershirt. 

Eggy flees.


	3. super duper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> harry hates everybody. well, he doesn't hate eggsy. but everybody else in this room, definitely.
> 
> also he is super bad at pep talks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU KATE FOR THE LATIN TRANSLATION
> 
> also please note harry is an asshole and he uses gendered slurs freely, so I apologize in advance. I tried to write around them and it didn't work.
> 
> also also I tried to write him being supportive and shit and then I was like "but nah, brah" so that was fun.

Eggsy takes a deep breath of the cool evening air while JB deliberates between two bushes. Even in his suit, the air is crisp. Which reminds him -- 

He slides his glasses on and taps the side of the frame. "You up, Merlin?"

"Hmm?" says Merlin. 

"Harry put us in the bullet proof suits," says Eggsy, watching JB water one of Harry's prized rosebushes. "Is he expecting trouble?"

"Hm," says Merlin. Eggsy hears his chair spin around -- he must have been playing some online game -- and then soft, rapid tapping. "It's probably just him being a paranoid bastard," he says finally. "There's a couple of these buggers worth killing but probably not worth enough to try the luck at a venue like this. I'll keep an eye on your feed, if you like."

"Yeah, that'd be aces," says Eggsy. 

"I'm very proud of you," adds Merlin. 

"What are you on about?" says Eggsy, shoving his hands into his pockets since Harry isn't here to look at him until he takes them out.

"Most agents take years to develop such finely honed senses of paranoia," says Merlin. He actually does sound a little proud. He should, reflects Eggsy. Neither he or Roxy could take their dogs for a walk for months without peering suspiciously into the shadows for Merlin lurking with his bloody clipboard. 

"It's cause of you, guvnor," says Eggsy.

* * *

The reunion is being held at an old, posh hotel in the center of London. Eggsy has passed by it, of course, but he's never dreamed, even now, of going into it. He stares up at the facade as Harry helps him from the cab (because Harry is a right wanker) and wonders, again, how he got here. It's just fucking messed up, is all. 

Harry draws him in past the door keeper and through the halls, following a discreet crumb-trail of gilt-edged signs. When they arrive at the ballroom, a bloke in a suit and white gloves recieves Harry's invitation like it might explode if it's not real. He examines it, murmurs, "Welcome, sirs," and bows them toward the cloakroom.

The cloakroom is inhabited by a lady in severest black and bloodred lipstick, who takes their coats and Harry's scarf like they're scarcely worth her time. Eggsy's so rattled that he almost balks at the entrance to the ballroom, slowing down until Harry pauses too.

Harry looks at him in mild inquiry, and Eggsy takes a deep breath. He knows he's dressed right. Harry's rubbish at feelings unless they're in private, where he can let himself relax, and even then, he's still pretty terrible at it. But he shows things anyway. Eggsy knows he's dressed right, that he looks like he belongs, because Harry dressed him. Harry made sure he looks like he fits beside him, because that's where Harry thinks Eggsy belongs, and fuck the rest of the world. 

Eggsy raises his chin. 

"That's my darling," murmurs Harry, taking a step nearer. "Remember they haven't killed half the world's leaders, and keep your head high."

Eggsy squeezes his eyes shut and prays for patience. "This is why my mum thinks you're going to skin me for a rug," Eggsy reminds Harry.

"I would never," says Harry. Then he goes and ruins it by adding, "Leather rugs are vulgar."

" _Jesus,_ " says Eggsy prayerfully. He allows Harry to put a warm hand on the small of his back and lead him into the ballroom.

People are milling around, going toward the buffet table hopefully, seeing the food is still covered up, and then toward the podium decorated in Harry's school colors. The coat of arms displayed on an easel beside the microphone has a rolled up spiky thing that looks a bit like a hedgehog as drawn by a drunk madman with a piece of charcoal on a pink and green field.

As they enter, a fat bloke in a dinner suit obviously bought twenty years and a stone or two in weight ago walks up to the podium and clears his throat into the microphone. It shrieks, of course, and everybody but Harry and Eggsy jumps. One of the ladies titters nervously. "Good evening," says the man, in the sort of posh, pompous tone that Eggsy can never hope to copy. He doesn't want to, either: he likes how Harry speaks, crisp and clear. This bloke sounds just slightly off somehow.

"American parents," murmurs Harry. "Dear me, what a lot of money they gave to our school. His father designed a new library. Quite hideous. Brutalist, of course."

Eggsy thinks about stepping on his foot, but Harry always fucking escalates. He settles for keeping his mouth shut as the bloke launches into a long speech about the glory of their school and the amount of money he personally had given it, with a side note about how everybody else should give a lot of money to it, and another long digression about how well his snotty-nosed little beast is doing at the school. Eggsy supposes the little beast's presence and the new computer sciences building are meant to be unrelated, but the way Harry's lip curls up like he smells something the dog rolled in suggests otherwise.

At last, he says: 

"Let us now sing of our alma mater." Everybody straightens up, and even Harry looks briefly reverent as they all open their mouths and sing:

_spinae tergo suo valde crassae sunt_  
_nisi punctum dolens accipies_  
_foramen inexpugnabilis habet cum globo crispat_  
_hinc ericius paedicare non potest numquam_

in a low key, like a dirge set to "God Save the Queen".

Eggsy records it on his glasses feed. There's a beep, and Merlin cackles from the glasses' earpiece. Merlin sends the translation to Eggsy's HUD and it's only with an effort Eggsy doesn't fall over to the ground laughing himself.

"You're a wretched brat," murmurs Harry, without moving his lips. Everybody relaxes from their attitudes of attention and reverence, and Harry pinches Eggsy gently on the side of his waist.

"You love me," says Eggsy.

"Unfortunately enough," says Harry. He looks around, and adds, "Look sharp, darling, here comes Huggles."

"Am I talking posh?" murmurs Eggsy.

"Mostly posh," says Harry, equally low. 

Eggsy can work with this. He smiles politely at the bald man approaching them. He has no chin and enough nose and forehead for three people, and a girl younger than Eggsy is clinging, fragile and admiring, to his arm. 

"Hartsy," says the man. "Didn't expect to see you here." He looks Eggsy up and down -- and Eggsy is a well fit bloke, he's gotten the best in leers from the best at them, but he still feels his skin crawl. He looks at the girl on the man's arm and imagines he sees a flash of sympathy. "Didn't know you were the type to have a son," he adds.

"Oh no," says Harry, in the composed voice that he uses mostly as he flays someone alive over their stupid pissant errors. "This is my partner, Gary Unwin."

Eggsy, by an effort of self-control, does not flinch or turn his head to glare at Harry. 

"Gary, darling, this is my school chum Alexander, Baron Huggins he is now. Services to the Crown for … screwdrivers, I believe," says Harry. "I don't believe I've met your -- companion, Huggles."

Eggsy bites his lip. 

Huggles looks torn between outrage and insult. "This is my lovely wife, Chloe," he says stiffly. "We were married six months ago Christmas."

"Indeed," says Harry. He accepts her proffered hand, raises it to his mouth and brushes his mouth over it. "A pleasure to meet you, madame."

Eggsy shakes hands much less pleasantly with Huggles and endures a handshake from Lady Huggins, along with her hungry stare at Harry. It's not that he blames the bird, but he's already beginning to see how this evening is going to go.

"Do excuse us," says Harry, putting his hand on the small of Eggsy's back. "I see Truffle over there, and I promised I would chat with him."

He herds Eggsy smoothly away toward the dance floor. "Oh, there's Trots," he says. "We shagged a few times. I'd introduce you, darling, but I think we should go have a dance and you should look at me adoringly instead."

"You fucking wish, bruv," says Eggsy. " _Partner_?"

Harry steers him with a possessive hand on the small of his back, and plucks a pair of champagne flutes with the other hand from a passing waiter. "What else should I call you?"

"They think you paid me to be here," hisses Eggsy.

Harry stares at him. "I made your favorite dinner for a week and I have to let your wretched beast sleep on the bed for a month," he says flatly. "I can't even complain about your horrible shoes."

"No, they think you _paid me to be here_ ," says Eggsy. "There's a difference, innit?" 

"My dear boy," says Harry, "do you think all these third wives married my classmates out of the purity of their affections?"

Which, looking around, Eggsy is hard-pressed to argue with. "What about her, she looks happy," he says, dipping his head toward a smiling lady leaning attentively toward a man nearly as fit as Harry. 

"Eriol Rodhaven!" says Harry, brightening up. "What a cheat and liar he was. I hope she's taking him to the fucking cleaners."

"I'm beginning to think I didn't make you pay enough for me to be here," says Eggsy, as Harry detours toward the couple and says,

"You owe me ten quid, you cunt!"

" _Hartsy_ , as I live and breathe," says Rodhaven. "Still buggering sweet young things, I see!"

Eggsy looks at Rodhaven's companion, as Rodhaven and Harry grip each other's hands and beam at each other. "I'm well confused," he admits.

Rodhaven's companion smiles fondly at them. "They're mad," she tells him kindly. "Straight off their nuts. Have another drink."

This sounds like an excellent idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the school song is actually the Hedgehog song from the Discworld because I'm terrible, Harry's terrible, England is extra terrible.
> 
> The spines on his back are so awful thick  
> you'll end up with naught but a painful prick.  
> He has an impregnable hole when curled up in a ball,  
> Hence the hedgehog can never be buggered at all!  
> \-- via [the discworld wiki](http://wiki.lspace.org/mediawiki/Main_Page)


	4. come with me where fashion sits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She says, "Who are you? _What_ are you?"
> 
> Eggsy says, "We're spies, luv, secret spies."
> 
> Harry casts up his eyes in a clear prayer for patience. "Darling boy," he says.
> 
> Eggsy just looks at him, because nobody really believes them anyway. "I was Marines," he says instead of arguing with Harry _again_ about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know why this dumb fic is over 7000 words. i hate everything. 
> 
> also if you figure out who rodhaven is if you haven't already I will give you a quarter.

As far as posh parties go, it looks like nobody's going to get their heads exploded off, which is a step up from the first one Eggsy went to. Otherwise, it reminds him strongly of school dances in secondary, minus the gym smell and plus Christ knows how much expensive dresses and jewelry, and champagne instead of punch spiked up with fuck knew what. Also there's not a lot of people standing awkwardly around the edges of the floor staring wistfully at the popular girls: either they're on the floor dancing or they're drinking steadily and wondering how So-and-So managed to keep his fucking trap shut long enough to get tenure.

"I think Lord Huggins' wife is trying to black-widow him," murmurs Eggsy, as he and Harry take a sedate turn around the dance floor to Frank Sinatra. They've at least three inches between them. Harry's hand is respectably on Eggsy's waist. Eggsy wants a redo. 

"What a sensible girl," says Harry. 

"You don't want to stop her?" says Eggsy, smiling meanly at an older lady with expensively maintained blonde hair. She's been staring at Harry with thirst in her eyes all evening and Eggsy is well over it. He takes a step closer to Harry just to make sure she understands the situation. Harry looks down at him, fond and amused.

"Couldn't happen to a better person," says Harry. "Darling boy, I assure you I only have eyes for you. You needn't hiss." 

"She don't need to be staring at your arse, neither," mutters Eggsy, baring his teeth at the lady in a false smile. 

Harry curls a possessive hand over the small of Eggsy's back and says, "Dear heart, if I growled at everybody looking at your charms tonight, we would have been asked to leave in five minutes."

"Don't see why you didn't, then," says Eggsy.

Harry chuckles, rich and low in his throat. "But darling, it's so much more amusing this way. Everybody wants you and I'm the one you'll go home with tonight." He slides his hand lower, pulls Eggsy just an inch closer. Eggsy's breath catches without him meaning to, and Harry smiles.

"You're a bastard," hisses Eggsy.

"But I love you," murmurs Harry. "And when we get home I'll show how much I love you, darling. Alone in our bed--"

Eggsy's going to embarrass himself on the dance floor in about half a minute, so he takes a deep breath in and says, "Keep doing that, bruv, and I'll take JB to the guest room tonight."

Harry scowls for a second, because Eggsy has in fact retreated to the guest room that he nominally stays in when he visits Harry (Eggsy's mum likes to believe he _always_ stays in the guest room, but it's a thin, polite fiction at best) with JB when Harry has been a particularly awful cunt. It's the only way to keep Harry toeing the line, he's found. Of course then Eggsy himself is stuck with JB as a bedmate but at least JB likes cuddling, unlike Harry, who is as handsy as all hell but considers putting one hand on Eggsy's shoulder in his sleep a shocking lack of decorum.

Harry's face smooths out, because even Harry knows his limits occasionally. "Shall we --" he begins, and that is when the fuckin' ninjas drop from the ceilings. They're probably not _real_ ninjas, but they're dressed in black and wearing hoods and appeared from basically nowhere, so Eggsy's okay with calling them ninjas for now. 

"What the fuck," screams Eggsy. Nobody pays attention to him because they're all busy screaming in terror except for the ninjas, who are spreading out professionally and waving guns around.

_"Fucking balls,"_ says Merlin, with surprising calmness, coming on the line with a beep. _"Fuck these fucks fucking bloody fucks."_

"Harry, if you thought this was going to happen," begins Eggsy.

"Darling," says Harry, "I promise you, if we go out for a spot of mayhem it won't be as a surprise. Merlin, who are they after?"

"Fuck me!" says Eggsy, ducking down to avoid a ninja. He trips it as it tries to spin around and it stumbles to the ground. Eggsy stamps down on it's leg and pulls out his short knife, then reaches down and hamstrings the bugger.

_"Shit balls,"_ says Merlin, 

"Now what," says Harry, irritated, pushing Eggsy out of the way of a ninja and kicking it right in the face. The ninja slumps down and Harry reaches for the gun before Merlin barks at him to stop.

_"We can't have any evidence,"_ says Merlin urgently. _"There's two MPs and that bloody American. Kingsman can't handle this sort of publicity."_

"This," says Harry. "This is why a gentleman _wore gloves_."

_"Are you fucking with me,"_ says Merlin. _"Amsterdam, Harry. AMSTERDAM."_

"And I learned my lesson, didn't I," says Harry.

Eggsy looks around and half-dives to the buffet line, snatching up a box of nitrile gloves and ripping it open. He pulls a pair on and throws the box at Harry, who stuffs a handful in his pocket and then pulls on a pair himself. They'll still have to be careful, of course, but fingerprints are the main issue if they're going to use the guns. People are screaming and trying to run and fortunately ignoring them for now, so Eggsy rips a gun away from a ninja and starts firing through the crowd, dropping enough ninjas for a clear path to be made for the civilians.

"I don't know what I actually expected," admits Eggsy. He doesn't bother asking what happened in Amsterdam. Harry will refuse to tell him, on grounds of being a mysterious and sophisticated killer spy, and Merlin will just make him go through the files without being caught by the rest of the Merlin department. He'll find out about it, and then he'll give Harry the appropriate amount of shit about it.

Harry grabs a masked attacker by the scruff and breaks his face over his knee. He takes the gun from the attacker's suddenly limp grip and fires at another one. "A nice evening out would have been lovely," he says, almost wistfully. "I was going to shag you in the cloakroom when the attendant was on her tea break and then flaunt you around."

Eggsy stares at him in disbelief while he mechanically slams in another magazine into the gun. 

_"You were the one who took up with him,"_ Merlin reminds him. _"You knew this would happen. I told you, don't take up with Harry bloody Hart, he's a madman. Your mum told you. Roxy told you. The only two who thought it was a good idea was your sister and your dog, and one's a three year old he bribed with cake and the other is a pug. On your left, Harry, ten o'clock."_

"Pugs are wonderful judges of character," says Harry, firing as directed. Eggsy takes a running jump and lands on another attacker's back, flipping him over so he lands with a sickening crunch.

"You fed him from the table," says Eggsy.

Harry is too busy snapping a goon's neck to defend himself. He can't anyway. Eggsy had spent half an hour listening to the vet lecture him on giving the dog people food and planning the strip he was going to rip off Harry's hide, because it weren't him giving JB human food. Eggsy is fucking mental about JB's diet, and the Queen's corgis don't eat any fucking better than Eggsy's wheeze-faced baby. He buys from a butcher and all, mixes up JB's food himself, and when Eggsy found out Harry was giving JB people food secretly, Eggsy spent the week at his mum's until Harry swore he'd follow the diet sheet.

He probably didn't, but he waited until Eggsy's back was turned, at least, so Eggsy was going to call it a victory.

"Well, Merlin?" says Harry.

Eggsy hears Merlin typing rapidly. _"Ahh,"_ he says. _"It's the American they want, although your friend Rodhaven has rather an interesting past."_

"I thought he was a researcher," says Eggsy. "That's what his wife told me."

_"Mostly,"_ says Merlin, _"He researches how to kill people."_

"Pardon?" says Eggsy.

_"He's a theoretical physicist and most of his theories involve, hmm, this literature is very interesting but I'm afraid I can't give you a precis. Suffice to say, if you were looking for a new way to bomb from orbit, I would certainly give him a ring."_

_"Jesus,"_ says Eggsy. "What's his wife do, then? chemical warfare? weaponized plants?"

_"She appears to own a toy company,"_ says Merlin. _"Children's electronics and such."_

"Oh, well done, Rodhaven," murmurs Harry. 

"What," says Eggsy helplessly. 

"He always did say he was more of an ornament," says Harry.

Eggsy tries to come up with a response and gives up. He shoots another ninja and looks around for Rodhaven and his missus. Rodhaven is crouched in a corner, watching the chaos with cold, interested eyes. His wife is behind him, covered by his bulk. She's texting, even though everybody had been kindly requested to leave their mobiles in the cloakroom. She doesn't look nearly as frightened as she should.

Eggsy ain't half getting the chills, looking at them, but he's got better things to worry about, like the way that Lady Huggins just tried to run to safety and stumbled over her high heels. He sticks out a hand and catches her, even though she overbalances and Eggsy has to let her sink to the ground.

"All right, then?" says Eggsy to Lady Huggins, offering her a hand up.

"Eggsy, my dear, if you have time to be rescuing damsels, you have time to reload," says Harry.

"Sorry, luv," says Eggsy, passing Harry a fresh magazine. 

"Where's Alexander?" says Lady Huggins.

"Over there," says Harry. He fires three times and three attackers drop. "He's fine, unless you would like me to put a bullet in him for you? It would be my pleasure, madam."

"Harry," says Eggsy, even as Merlin shrieks,

_"If you make me destroy forensic evidence again, Harry, so help me--"_

"Aww, the missus never lets you off the leash," says Eggsy. Harry gives him a glare fit to melt his suit off his back, but he grabs another gun off one of the attackers and offers it, with a courteous bow, to Lady Huggins.

She says, "Who are you? _What_ are you?"

Eggsy says, "We're spies, luv, secret spies."

Harry casts up his eyes in a clear prayer for patience. "Darling boy," he says.

Eggsy just looks at him, because nobody really believes them anyway. "I was Marines," he says instead of arguing with Harry _again_ about it.

"Go on," says Harry encouragingly. "I have some gloves if you're worried about the finger prints."

" _He_ was sectioned," says Eggsy. "They let him out on a leash for tonight, special permission."

"I don't want to shoot him," says Lady Huggins firmly. 

Harry nods. "Shooting's so impersonal," he says sympathetically. "Are you poisoning him or are you arranging for a car accident?"

Eggsy would facepalm but he's got guns in both hands, so he says, " _Harry,_ " and shoots another ninja.

Lady Huggins stares at Harry, face slack.

"Harry, she's going to shoot us now if you don't let her be," says Eggsy. 

_"Oh, I_ say _, give her a card,_ " says Merlin with sudden enthusiasm. _"She's got a PhD in biochemistry!"_

"So you are poisoning him," says Harry thoughtfully, which is very Sherlock Holmes of him and Lady Huggins looks shocked and all, but there are three ninjas heading their fucking way toward them right this second. 

"Harry, I will let the dog sleep on everything you love," says Eggsy, looking around and deciding which angle would be best to get to Harry's American classmate. The classmate is cowering behind a table and looks like he bitterly regrets suggesting or agreeing to leave his mobile behind, but also trying to look like this sort of thing happens to him all the time because he's so American and important. 

"Was he always such a cunt?" says Eggsy. 

"Who, Smith?" says Harry. "Yes, of course he was." He turns his attention back to Lady Huggins. "I'm just curious why you want to kill Huggles. I understand the impulse, my dear, but --"

"Kitty," says Lady Huggins.

Harry nods like this makes any sense.

Eggsy rolls his eyes and starts off at a low crouch, scuttling around the edges and behind the American. "What does he do that ninjas want him, Merlin?" he says, eyeing the distance.

_"Hmm,"_ says Merlin. _"Well, he's got his fingers in several multi-national pies, and appalling taste."_

No matter what Merlin and Harry says, appalling taste is not a ninja offense. Anyway, Harry likes the fucking worst spy movies ever to waste film. Merlin likes long period dramas on the BBC where at least one person stands at a mansion's window and cries silently as they look out at the rain, not to mention Eggsy has personally seen him eat haggis, real haggis in a sheep stomach. "So what's with the multi-nationals?"

_"The usual,"_ says Merlin. _"Big phama, sports, political corruption, name your flavor."_

"Huh," says Eggsy. "Should I shoot him?"

_"Too much bother,"_ says Merlin regretfully. _"The numbers say they're just going to dramatically kidnap him and force him to do something. Galahad,_ if _you would be so kind as to stop trying to get Lady Huggins to kill her husband and back up Gawain, if you please!"_


	5. puttin' on the ritz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy genuinely doesn't know why he puts up with Harry, except, yes, he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I know it's been a month and I suck but a) June sucked and b) I write smut at approximately the rate glaciers covered the earth and  
> 2\. I haven't written smut since ..... the first Thor movie .... so we're just gonna .... blame Pru....  
> 3\. sorry. I tried. 
> 
> Happy Independence Day, Americans!

Eggsy kicks off his shoes at the door, and manages to wiggle out of his jacket and make it to the living room before falling face first onto the nearest piece of furniture, which fortunately is Harry's hideous sofa and not his hideous coffee table. Harry tsks and moves the shoes to where they belong in the shoe cupboard. "Really, Eggsy," he says. 

"What is wrong with you?" he says into Harry's equally hideous embroidered cushions. "Why are you like this?" Harry strokes his hair on the way to the liquor cabinet, and Eggsy hears the chime of crystal and whiskey being poured. 

Harry killed twelve ninja and injured at least as many more, spread amnesia darts lavishly around, and then tried to convince Lady Huggins -- _again_ \-- to shoot her husband, or at least let him 'help' her send him to his (Eggsy assumed) well-deserved end, while Merlin shrieked like an angry cat in their earpieces about making sure she had a business card for when she succeeded and needed a new job. 

Then he had convinced the officers that the American should be investigated for causing a disruption ("well, he had, hadn't he, Eggsy, if Smith hadn't shown up we wouldn't be faced with all this nonsense, would we?") and escorted Eggsy out with a hand about an inch away from an indecency charge on Eggsy's lower back.

He'd been very pleased with himself.

Also it had turned out that the glasses Merlin had lent Eggsy were prototypes because Merlin was fucking around with lasers in them, so that was a year off Eggsy's life he'll never get back. The lasers had activated just when he was turning around to yell at Harry and it was only due to their combined reflexes and Harry's demon luck that Harry was at home instead of being fitted for a bionic dick to match his bionic eye. 

There's a double click in his ear and Merlin says, "Did you turn on your bloody security system, Harry?"

"Yes, Mummy," says Harry. 

"That's me off then," says Merlin. "Good night, Eggsy, congratulations on surviving Harry for another day."

Eggsy lifts two meaningful fingers to where Harry can see them and his glasses can transmit it to Merlin.

"Good night, Merlin, thank you for your assistance," says Harry.

"Go to hell," replies Merlin, and clicks off. Eggsy fumbles his glasses off and sets them down on the bowl on the coffee table Harry uses to collect clutter.

Harry chuckles. He comes back over and Eggsy, grumbling, lifts himself up enough to let Harry sit on the end of the sofa. He puts his head on Harry's thighs and nuzzles into the warmth of Harry's lap. Harry's lap is a much better pillow than his shitty embroidered cushions. His thighs are not nearly as soft, but the wool of Harry's suit is smooth against Eggsy's cheek and smells deliciously of Harry's cologne besides. Harry puts his hand on Eggsy's hair and smooths it carefully, like Eggsy is a cat. Eggsy lets out a long, long sigh.

After a while he says, "What about Rodhaven? What was his problem?"

"Do you know," says Harry meditatively, "I don't believe I know for sure."

Eggsy had last seen Rodhaven complaining to his wife that he could have _helped_. His wife calmly but firmly replied, as he led her toward an SUV full of what appeared to be supermodels in black Armani suits with shoulder holsters and mirrored sunglasses, "We've discussed this before, and we all agreed that if you keep on making so many messes at your reunions, you simply won't be able to go to them any more."

Rodhaven pouted.

Eggsy just hoped they never saw the blighter again.

Now, though, he's willing to lie here and let Harry pet him for a while, too lazy to even raise himself up enough to steal a drink of Harry's whiskey. He doesn't really like whiskey, not any more, but it's nice to drink from the same glass as Harry. 

"What was up with Lady Huggins?" says Eggsy, after a while.

"Hmm?" says Harry. "Oh, yes, Chloe. Katherine was Huggle's first wife. Lovely person. Much too good for him, but I understand her family needed money."

"Jesus," says Eggsy. "So what happened?"

"The usual," says Harry. "He traded for a younger, stupider model. Kitty ended up with no money and a child to support."

"Chloe?" says Eggsy.

"No, the child died in an accident, I believe," says Harry. "An actual automobile accident. I did look into it. After that Kitty got her degree and went to teach at a girl's school. She must have met Chloe there."

Eggsy turns his head toward Harry and blinks at him. "Were they --" he begins.

Harry smooths his hand over Eggsy's jaw. He shakes his head. "Kitty is a very honorable person," he says. "A real lady. Chloe admires her very much, I think."

"So why would she try to poison Huggins for her?" says Eggsy. 

"You of all people should know that," chides Harry. He sweeps his thumb over Eggsy's mouth, affectionate, possessive. "After what you did to Arthur for me."

Eggsy is silent. Harry continues to stroke his long, warm fingers over Eggsy's face and hair until Eggsy turns his head to catch his fingers in a kiss. Harry presses his fingers against Eggsy's mouth until Eggsy parts his lips to let him slide them in, not sucking on them, exactly, just feeling the weight of Harry's fingers against his inner lip. Then he shifts, moving off Harry's lap and sitting up enough to swing his leg over Harry's lap and settle in, face to face. Harry's undone his tie and Eggsy pulls it off and tosses it carelessly aside. Harry takes a drink of his whiskey and kisses Eggsy so he can taste the smoky bite of the whiskey on his mouth. Harry sets the glass down (on a coaster, without looking, because Harry is unbelievable) and slides his big hands around Eggsy's waist and into Eggsy's hair. 

Eggsy leans back into Harry's grip of his waist and head, breaking the kiss long enough to unbutton Harry's shirt and his own. They're still wearing undershirts, but Eggsy can see more of Harry like this, slide his hand under Harry's A-frame and feel the solid muscles of Harry's core. He leans forward again and kisses Harry, open-mouthed and dirty, the way Harry likes it, and Harry slides his hand from Eggsy's waist to his arse, helping himself to a generous feel. 

"I'd do a fucking lot for you," he admits against Harry's mouth. 

"And I you," says Harry. He kisses Eggsy in a way that might be sweet if not for the way his hands roam over Eggsy's body, pushing his shirt up over his braces and sliding under his undershirt. Eggsy slides both hands into Harry's hair and tilts his neck up so Harry can bite Eggsy's neck, short stings followed by Harry pressing his mouth against them as if he can taste the blood rising up in his skin.

"Ah," says Eggsy, letting Harry scrape his teeth against his jawbone. "Oh, Harry, _oh_." It's not coherent but it seems to please Harry, who makes a low, savagely pleased sound in his throat, and bites hard. Eggsy's hand flexes involuntarily on Harry's scalp, pulling _hard_ , and Harry laughs, looking up at Eggsy through his dark lashes. "Christ," says Eggsy involuntarily. " _Christ_ , Harry, you fucking --" 

"Darling boy," says Harry, pressing kisses on Eggsy's wrist. "You gorgeous creature, delicious thing, you --"

Eggsy has to close his eyes and grind down hard on Harry. He's not feeling tired any more. He wants to ruin Harry again and again until there's nothing left of his facade as a gentleman. He wants to leave marks all over him, so everybody knows that Harry is his. He wants everything and he knows Harry wants everything too, from the way he's arching up as Eggsy grinds down, his arms holding Eggsy exactly where he wants him. "Harry, Harry," says Eggsy, bending down enough to catch Harry in a filthy kiss, "Harry, take me to bed, please, I want you, Harry --"

Harry doesn't respond in words, but his arms tighten around Eggsy and Eggsy wraps his legs and arms around him as Harry lifts him with shocking ease up and carries him up the stairs like Eggsy weighs hardly anything at all. Eggsy is too busy trying to kiss him to be much help but he manages to fumble the door of the bedroom open and let himself fall easily onto the bed.

"You beautiful thing," says Harry, eyes black and wild. "You know how much I love you. Don't you? Dearest, dearest, darling--"

"Yes, Harry," says Eggsy, lifting his hips up so Harry can half-tear off his braces and pull down his trousers and pants all at once. "I know, I know."  
Harry stops long enough to take a deep breath in. "You awful boy," he says, his voice still graveled and deep. Eggsy almost purrs at the compliment. "Making me rush like that. I wanted to take my time with you." 

"I want it now," complains Eggsy, as Harry shows every evidence of going the opposite way and killing Eggsy through the wait while he slowly strips Eggsy's clothes off of his body and lavishes every inch he uncovers with kisses. "You promised, you did --"

Harry smirks at him and Eggsy takes matters into his own hands, pulling Harry onto the bed and straddling him, ripping the buttons off Harry's shirt sleeves with an absolute lack of concern for what Harry will say in the morning, pushing until Harry's shirt is back from his shoulders and his undershirt is around his collar bone and Eggsy's greedy thief hands are all over Harry's pectorals, plucking at his nipples and making Harry hiss like a cat. Eggsy slides his hands down, unbuttons Harry's flies and pushes down his pants, freeing his cock. It springs out and Eggsy licks his lips. Every breath Eggsy takes is dragged in like he's on top of a mountain, like he's been running for miles. Harry is flushed nearly to his navel and Eggsy rakes his blunt fingernails down Harry's abdomen, reveling in the red marks he leaves. They won't fade for hours -- maybe until tomorrow. If Eggsy has his way they won't fade, not never, and Harry will always know who he belongs to. 

He takes Harry's cock in one hand and pumps for a minute, enjoying the slick slide, thinking about sucking it until his throat is too raw to speak straight tomorrow, how Harry's face will go all hot and intent every time he hears Eggsy's rough voice. But really he wants it in him more, so much he thinks he's going to die of it, so he reaches over to the nightstand for the lube. Harry balances him as he reaches so he doesn't fall over, and after Eggsy straightens again he takes the chance to squeeze Eggsy's arse, drag his thumbs over the sharp bones of Eggsy's hips. 

Eggsy smears lube generously over his fingers and reaches back to get himself ready, helped -- or not -- by Harry getting the fingers of one hand mixed in with Eggsy's, while the other hand strokes Eggsy's dick and slides up to grope and squeeze at Eggsy's chest, pinching his nipple with vicious sweetness. He's running his mouth, too, calling Eggsy sweet and delicious and a wretched little tart. Eggsy doesn't know if he's going to make it long enough to have Harry in him but he doesn't care. He'd take Harry right now if he thought Harry'd let him get away with it. 

Harry squeezes his arse, hard, when Eggsy tries to push his luck and get Harry in him before Harry thinks he's ready. "None of that now, my dear," he says, his words crisp and posh, even as his voice is all thick and rough. He shoves Eggsy's hand rudely away and slides his long fingers up, searching for Eggsy's prostate and finding it within a few seconds. 

Eggsy maybe whites out, he doesn't know for sure. His throat is raw and he can't stop making punched-out noises. Even more than that, Harry looks so smugly pleased with himself that Eggsy knows he must look like a right tart, and in revenge he squeezes down on Harry's fingers so Harry hisses out a breath and pulls out his fingers. Eggsy moves fast before Harry can roll him over or pin him down or otherwise be a fucking posh cocktease, grasps Harry's cock and slides down on it like he owns it. He has to stop for a moment, breathe deep, before he can start moving again, slow and careful. He sighs out a long breath. It feels -- 

"That's nice," says Harry. He sounds drunk. His hands are restless on Eggsy's body, like he wants to claim every inch for himself, over and over again. "That's -- very nice, darling, you feel so good."

"Mmm," says Eggsy, and starts grinding his arse on Harry's _delicious_ cock, really fucking himself on it, enjoying every centimeter sliding into him. "Ahhhh, Harry, Harry --"

Eggsy loses track of time, just aware of Harry's hands on his body and Harry's thick cock in his arse and the way Harry keeps trying to kiss him and not doing anything but catching Eggsy's mouth with his and breathing into it. Oh, Eggsy thinks, oh, oh, and he doesn't know if he says it out loud or not, but Harry pulls him tight, says, "Darling, _darling_ boy, my dear, my dear --" and Eggsy is gone. 

When he surfaces again Harry's rolled them over and is sliding in and out, luxuriously slow, and Eggsy wraps his arms around him and says, "Come on, Harry, come on, please ---" and Harry comes. 

Eggsy is barely aware when Harry pulls out, just enough to make a complaining noise when Harry leaves the bed, and quiet down when Harry kisses his forehead and his mouth. He drifts, not quite awake, until Harry comes back with the wash cloth, and only surfaces enough to turn when Harry coaxes him. 

"Thank you, darling," says Harry.

Eggsy rouses enough to make an inquiring noise, and Harry kisses his nose, which is ridiculous and makes Eggsy's chest feel two sizes too small for his heart. 

"For coming with me," says Harry.

"Anything," says Eggsy.

Harry laughs a little, like he's said something funny but Eggsy was serious - serious as anything. He says,"I hope I never have to take you up on that, dearest."

Harry's mad as a hatter, and Eggsy still isn't sure why he took up with him, but -- 

It's alright, though, innit?

Eggsy loves him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahaha. ha. ha. *RUNS*

**Author's Note:**

> it really took a village. thanks, you guys.


End file.
